


If You Fall, I Will Catch You

by Mynuet



Series: Falling [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Domestic Derek Hale, M/M, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynuet/pseuds/Mynuet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come on, are you seriously reduced to knitting while sitting beside your window and gazing longingly at the world going by?"  Cora pushed down on his shoulder to look past him and out the window.  </p><p>Thank God that Stiles had already left for his night shift and Derek had just stayed where he was because the breeze felt nice.  He'd managed to keep his raging stalker crush a secret thus far, and the longer that lasted, the happier he'd be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Fall, I Will Catch You

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of people liked the first one, and I had the thought for continuing so I thought, why not?

Derek didn't think of himself as a bad person. While he'd almost gotten his family killed by a psychopath when he was younger, he'd had years since then to accept that it wasn't his fault that he hadn't been able to figure out that she was crazy when he was sixteen and she was intent on being charming. And sure, he lived off a carefully managed inheritance and had never been much of an alpha, but he gave back to the community as much as he could in both money and time to avoid feeling like a parasite on society. Overall, he thought he mostly managed to be pretty decent.

He really didn't deserve the kind of punishment of finding out that he was actually a creepy pervert when he couldn't look away from his new neighbor's window. He might not have intended to look, but one short glance through his bedroom window led to a fascinated reverie as his new neighbor stripped out of a police uniform in full view through his own window. It was like porn, horribly fantastic voyeuristic porn of the best possible quality, and Derek whimpered before he finally managed to turn away. The yard was a mess; he should go ahead and start on it, far away from the temptation of any windows. Maybe the physical exertion would even help him feel less like a peeping Tom.

It worked, even if there was something outside that smelled so amazing that Derek wanted to roll around in it before bottling it up to spray on everything he owned, twice. It was faint at first, but it grew stronger and he kept turning his head to try to track down where it was coming from. Was it a flower? Some kind of herb or... Between his own sweat and the grass he was cutting, the smell was frustratingly difficult to pin down, but it seemed like it was coming from the hot cop's yard. Derek entertained a brief fantasy of using the question of what it was to meet him, but then reality intruded when he remembered he had no idea how to talk to people, let alone attractive people.

He caught the scent again later that evening, after he'd showered and stepped outside to plan what to tackle next. He followed it straight to his mailbox, where a paper plate of cookies had been surrounded by layer upon layer of plastic wrap and so much of that incredible scent that he wanted to do things the postal service would definitely not approve of. It was only after he'd gotten inside and spent a really embarrassing half hour sniffing the plastic wrap and eating the cookies that he realized the mouthwatering smell was from the person who had made them, and that it was probably his scorchingly hot neighbor.

Derek thumped his forehead against the table and wondered what his chances were of completely revamping his personality to become the kind of alpha that could get a second date. 

***

The hot cop's name was Stiles. His best friend was Scott, his dad was the sheriff, and his bedroom curtains were never closed. 

Derek thought he might have a problem.

***

"Come on, are you seriously reduced to knitting while sitting beside your window and gazing longingly at the world going by?" Cora pushed down on his shoulder to look past him and out the window. Thank God that Stiles had already left for his night shift and Derek had just stayed where he was because the breeze felt nice. He'd managed to keep his raging stalker crush a secret thus far, and the longer that lasted, the happier he'd be.

"Leave him alone, Derek can't help it if he's declining into an old maid," Laura said. "He's going to end up being the maiden uncle that takes care of my house and children while I jet around the world with my trophy husband."

Derek snorted. "Does Nick know that he's a trophy now?"

"Oh, please, it'd be my second husband," Laura said breezily. "The scandalously young one I take up with after I drive Nick to an early grave with all his worrying."

Scowling, Derek said, "You know your kids can probably hear you. Dora might not understand yet, but you're going to traumatize Colette."

"Mom exaggerates," his niece said composedly as she came to stand next to Derek, leaning in to give him a one-armed hug. "Like when she said that she was going to stop being a lawyer and be a police dog instead."

Cora and Derek both turned disbelieving looks on Laura, who shrugged. "What can I say, my kid has me pegged."

"We're not dogs," Cora growled, somewhat undermining her point by letting her canines lengthen. 

Pointing one of his needles at the back door, Derek said, "No tussles in the house. If Col and Dora have to go outside to squabble, so do you two."

"We are not squabbling," Laura said with dignity, then ruined it by smacking the back of Cora's head. "Puppy just can't take a joke."

The two of them went tearing off, and Colette sighed before settling in on Derek's lap. "They're so immature."

Stifling his smile at the eleven year old's judgmental face, Derek nodded. "They always have been. You learn to deal with them."

"Grandma says that it's okay to be different," she said, poking at the shawl he was working on. 

Cautiously, Derek said, "Different how? Is someone at school teasing you?"

A one-shoulder shrug was his answer and then Dora woke up from her nap upstairs, making her presence known by hitting the floor running as fast as her little legs could carry her. Derek set Colette down on his seat so he could run and catch the little imp before she could throw herself down the stairs, swinging her through the air and kissing her cheek before ushering her outside to join her mother and aunt in what was probably a game of tag.

He started getting a snack together, his latest attempt at replicating the chocolate chip cookies Stiles had left for him being placed front and center. Colette came in to join him, watching him moodily before taking a cookie. "She's just like them. Even her name is just like them."

"You're the one that named her," Derek said, ruffling her hair as he passed by.

It was apparently exactly the wrong thing to do, because Colette's lip wobbled before she ran out of the room and straight through the front door. He took off after her, catching her before she'd cleared the front steps and sweeping her into a hug. "Hey, kiddo. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

With a sob, Colette buried her face against Derek's shoulder. "I'm so weird and I'm too quiet and I never know how to talk to people and it's not fair!"

"You're not weird, who told you that you're weird?" Derek was going to go beat up some sixth graders if he had to. Colette crying was unacceptable. 

"No one had to tell me." The sobs had died down to sniffles. "I'm just not like them."

Derek sighed, wishing he knew what to say. "No, you're like me."

She froze, looking up at him with a frown. "You... you were weird, too?"

"Define weird," he said, praying he actually understood the problem this time and was saying the right thing. "If it's not being like your mom and your aunt, then I'm very weird. But I always thought they were the weirdos. Who likes wrestling more than reading, seriously?"

That earned him a giggle and he smiled in relief before kissing her forehead. "Come on. Let's eat some cookies and then see how long it takes your mom and aunt to start crying over the movie I picked out."

Colette slid down, giving him a shy smile, and Derek couldn't help bending down to hug her again. As he straightened up, he caught sight of Stiles standing in his driveway, his keys in his hand. Derek's hand automatically went up to push his hair back, and he wished he was wearing something better than pajama pants and a t-shirt so old it was practically see-through. Stiles waved, but then his dad pulled up in the cruiser and Stiles climbed in, leaving his Jeep behind in the driveway. 

"You like him, don't you?" Colette grinned and Derek wanted to slap a palm over his face.

"Please, please don't tell anyone." Derek shuddered at the thought of his sisters ganging up to embarrass him in front of the cute neighbor. Or, worse, his mom cooing and working her contacts to set up a blind date. Not knowing Stiles's orientation would not do a thing to stop her. "Please."

Leaning into his side, she said, "I won't. Promise."

***

Stiles was on his roof, hammering some shingles in place while the sun glinted off his hair and sweat made his hair gleam. Derek was allowing himself to glance over every time he completed a task, although the tasks had gone from 'trim this shrub' to 'pull this dandelion' in terms of time and complexity. He was carrying a pile of weeds and trimmings to the compost heap, practicing lines he would never deliver - he'd like to think he could deliver an outrageous pickup line, but the most he'd ever managed to say to Stiles was hi, and either he hadn't heard or he'd ignored him, and he wasn't sure enough which it was to risk trying again yet - when he heard a scream.

"Stiles!" Dropping his armful of greenery, he ran to where Stiles was in a heap on the ground, groaning. "Stiles, are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not fucking okay, do I fucking look okay? Arms aren't supposed to bend this way." Stiles sat up abruptly, and Derek started to panic at how incredibly pale he was. Humans weren't supposed to move after injuries, right?

"Are you sure you should sit up? I…" Stiles shot him a venomous look, but Derek figured he was entitled to. Patting his pockets, he cursed. "I don't have my phone to call an ambulance. Just… Just hold still, okay? I'll go grab my phone and then come right back, okay?"

Stiles continued to insist and Derek was amazed at his endurance. When he'd broken bones before, his mom had just pulled it into place and held it there for the few minutes it took to heal, and he'd cried for most of that time. Stiles had to still be in agonizing pain, but he was thinking and being snarky and Derek thought he would've swooned at the combination of Stiles's scent and his toughness if he hadn't had to be so careful carrying him the car. 

The hospital had about a million forms to fill out, and Derek was seething as he tried to both write down the answers Stiles was dictating and discreetly steal some of his pain. He asked a nurse for a phone, thinking to call Aunt Linda even though it was her day off and she worked in an entirely different wing of the hospital, but no one bothered responding. That they didn't have time to respond but had enough time to gossip about how omegas were so whiny about the least little bruises made him seethe, and only knowing that a human wouldn't have been able to hear them kept him from charging over to give them a piece of his mind.

"Stilinski?" Derek helped Stiles to his feet, and the attendant that had called them smiled widely at Derek. "Right this way, Mr. Stilinski. We'll take good care of your omega, don't you worry."

" _I'm_ Mr. Stilinski," Stiles said firmly. "And I'm not anybody's anything. Just mine."

Derek smiled at the way Stiles was so capable of handling himself, carefully helping him through settling in and waiting while Stiles answered questions which seemed to skirt the line between professionally medical and just intrusive. Derek was about to say something when she repeated her question about Stiles being pregnant when he just exploded.

"Oh, fuck you, lady. If I was banging all that, don't you think I'd have it fucking tattooed on my forehead? I'd have a fucking billboard that announced to the world I'd managed to hit that, okay? So can you just throw down the radiation and make with the drugs already? In case you didn't notice, my arm is fucking broken."

Derek could feel his jaw sagging as Stiles went on, trying to think of an appropriate response. The concept that Stiles might be interested in him was kind of blowing his mind and he needed a moment to process. Would it be acceptable to ask Stiles out right then, or should he wait until he was healed? Probably when he was healed. How long did humans take to heal broken bones?

He could hear the attendant outside, telling someone that the omega had been asking for drugs and shouldn't get any narcotics. Any good feelings that Derek had towards her for prompting Stiles to say he was attracted to Derek vanished, and he started mentally composing exactly what he would say to Laura about it all. She'd always been vocal about equality for all people, but ever since Colette had been identified as an omega, any hint of anti-omega prejudice made Laura practically feral with rage. That and her law degree would lead to some changes at this ER, and hopefully with the woman's employment status.

He was pulled out of his revenge fantasies by Stiles muttering, "Three out of ten, would not recommend."

"That might be a little generous," Derek said in response, and Stiles laughed like he'd said something amazingly witty. Derek tried not to sigh at how gorgeous he looked and to work out whether he needed to wait until Stiles was _completely_ healed, or just until he felt a bit better.

Although, maybe Stiles didn't actually like him. Maybe he'd just been snarking at the nurse and didn't think of Derek that way at all. Or maybe he just thought Derek looked good, since Derek was the one with the stalking and feeling like he knew Stiles personally from what he'd found out by peering through his windows. Probably the best thing to do was play it cool, just try to talk to Stiles, get to know him directly, let him get to know Derek a bit. At least if Stiles was going to be disappointed in Derek not being enough of an alpha, it'd be better to find out before Stiles realized about the creepy epic crush.

The fact that Stiles kept slapping his hands away when he tried to help and didn't talk at all on the way home just cemented for Derek that he really needed to start playing it cool. People had seemed to like it when he seemed aloof and mysterious before, even if it was just because he was bored and didn't want to be at the party/bar/dinner/whatever that Laura or Cora had dragged him to. He could fake that.

"You knew my name." Crap. Double crap. There was no coming back from that, and even if there had been, the blush he could feel creeping up his cheeks would've ensured there wasn't.

Derek mumbled an excuse and tried to help Stiles out of the car, only to be brushed off again. He stayed close, catching Stiles when he fell, and tried his best not to be weird about having him in his arms. Especially when he had to dig in Stiles's pocket to get out his house keys.

"I'm not a stereotype," Stiles said sulkily. "I'm not."

Was that even a question? "I know. You're a cop, not some housewife who stays home and knits all day." Honestly, Stiles was more of an alpha than Derek was, if they were going to talk about stereotypes. Derek had heard more than enough about his 'omega-like' or 'effeminate' hobbies from far too many people.

"There's nothing wrong with knitting, or with being a housewife. Fuck anyone that says there is." Stiles looked defiant and ready to fight anyone who dared contradict him. Derek didn't think he could be blamed for his heart fluttering.

Feeling a bit shy, he said, "I'm glad you think so, since that's basically what I do. Without the wife part, obviously."

Slapping his good hand over his face, Stiles said, "That's it, you have to go now. You have passed the threshold of perfection and now you're just getting on my nerves because it's too soon to propose and I just can't talk to you."

Derek felt his eyebrows lift as he stared at Stiles, trying to decide if he'd actually heard what he'd thought he heard. Feeling butterflies in his stomach, he said, "I just have one question."

"Go ahead," Stiles groaned, still hiding his face. It was too fucking adorable for words, and the butterflies were threatening to lift him off the ground.

Clearing his throat, Derek shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Would the tattoo and billboard be absolutely necessary, or is there some room to negotiate there?"

Stiles froze, then slowly peeked out from between his fingers. "Are you-- Is it because you rescued me?"

"It's because I want the recipe for your chocolate chip cookies," Derek said solemnly, and the butterflies were swarming now, making him feel like he'd leapt off a cliff and discovered he could fly.

"There's a secret ingredient." Stiles seemed a bit out of it, and Derek wondered if he was still in pain. It helped him come down a bit from the high of actually, genuinely flirting with Stiles, and he leaned in to brush his hair back and check to see if he had a fever. "Wait, you knew they were from me?"

Derek was never going to get away with anything. He didn't know if he was pleased or apprehensive. "Your scent is... pretty distinct."

"Distinct like sewage or distinct like--"

"Like every delicious thing in the world all wrapped up together in an amazingly hot body that sometimes wears a uniform," Derek said. "I would've been over here the day after I moved in if I'd thought I had a shot."

Flailing his arms in a way that couldn't have been good for the one in the cast, Stiles burst out, "Have you seen you? You don't just have a shot, you have a guarantee! And that's before it turned out you're the kind of adorable that rescues baby raccoons. You probably knit hats for little babies in the hospital, don't you?"

How on earth had he known? And did he think there was something wrong with it? "It's really important for them to retain their body heat, and the hospital is usually cold."

"You..." Stiles sagged against the couch, quiet for a distressingly long amount of time. Derek was torn between tiptoeing out and getting him a blanket before Stiles finally spoke again. "Seriously. We're going to end up married and telling our grandkids about how you were stupid and I broke my arm and you need to kiss me before I keep talking. Please."

Derek couldn't help the goofy smile on his face as he said, "I think I might ask you for a date soon." Feeling greatly daring, he leaned in brush a kiss along Stiles's jaw. "I'm feeling a little optimistic that you might say yes."

Stiles made a choking noise and threaded his good hand through Derek's hair. "If this is a dream, I demand more kisses."

"What if it isn't a dream?" 

"Then I still demand more kisses, but I'll be embarrassed about it later." Derek laughed as he perched on the edge of the couch, careful to keep from jostling Stiles. "Much, much later."

Carefully, Derek laid a hand just over where the cast ended and pulled a little bit of the pain, hoping it wasn't too noticeable. "Would it be that embarrassing to kiss me?"

With a giggle, Stiles kissed the tip of his nose and said, "Only if you find out..."

"Find out what?" Derek watched as his head lolled forward, and stifled a sigh. He'd probably overdone it with taking Stiles's pain. By a lot. Standing up, he started trying to arrange Stiles comfortably on the couch and then gave up. 

It was as he was carrying Stiles up the stairs to his bedroom that the other man mumbled, "I watch you. All the time. Alllllllllll the time."

"You..." Derek had half a second of feeling a bit weird before it hit him just how hypocritical he was being. "You can watch me as much as you want to."

Leaning his head against Derek's shoulder, Stiles mumbled, "Good stuff kicked in."

"Yeah." Thank God for an easy explanation, even if Stiles would probably question it later. He was too sharp not to. "Will you be okay if I leave?"

"No!" Stiles had a surprisingly strong grip, making Derek stumble as he tried to set him down in his bed. "No. Stay."

It was so completely wrong; Stiles was so out of it, he probably had had no idea what he was saying. But he was holding on so tightly that Derek couldn't break free without taking a chance on hurting him, and so he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Just get some rest. You'll feel better after you sleep."

"You should make breakfast," Stiles murmured, not letting go of Derek for a second as he snuggled against his side. "I want to sex you up and then have pancakes."

Swallowing hard, Derek said, "Pancakes first. Then we talk about the other part."

Stiles nodded, his hair tickling Derek's stomach where his shirt had ridden up. "Pants off, wanna use my tongue..."

Nothing else was forthcoming, which was probably exactly what Derek deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really feel all the way ended, so there may well be more, I don't know. I've had it happen before where I continued a fic and people were disappointed and wished I hadn't, so. Sorry if that's the case, but hopefully you liked it?


End file.
